


Emma Swan's Problem Free Philosophy

by youngerdrgrey



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen, prompted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-11
Updated: 2013-06-11
Packaged: 2017-12-14 15:49:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/838631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youngerdrgrey/pseuds/youngerdrgrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You do get how dumb it is to show up at the sheriff’s place drunk, right? Even in Storybrooke, that’s asking to get arrested.” Pre-SQ.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Emma Swan's Problem Free Philosophy

**Author's Note:**

> Definitely wrote this a while ago for theprompt, hakuna matata, from SwanQueenAUSaturdays. It turned out differently and much longer than expected. Hope you enjoy it.

Regina’s drunk, which is new and unexpected but somehow makes sense after the day Emma’s had. More like the months Emma’s had. Months that only even seem real when she notices the few inches Henry’s gained since she came to town, or when she hears the low tones slipping into his voice. Henry’s always been the only one changing in Storybrooke. Emma kind of wonders if breaking the curse fixed that at all.

She hasn’t changed, not really. She has parents that are old as she is, a kid that apparently hates her for lying, and an ex— _Neal_  back in her life, but she’s still Emma. Mary Margaret’s a bit tougher, but she’s also moping in her bed twenty-four-seven as if killing someone means she deserves a break. Or, helping kill someone; Emma’s still trying to work out who gets the blame for offing Cora. Maybe they’re all to blame, or maybe it’s what the witch had coming to her. Either way, it’s two in the morning, and Emma honestly doesn’t want to think about anything. Only, she kind of has to since there’s a drunk mayor sitting on her welcome mat.

Emma huffs as she heads closer to the door. She can smell the alcohol coming off of Regina’s breath even though Regina’s got her lips pursed. Her cheeks puff up a bit, and Emma stills. Is Regina about to barf, or is she just trying to hold back the smell?

With a sigh, Regina leans her head back against the door. No barf. Good. Emma’s pretty sure she’d arrest Regina for throwing up here. She could say it was destruction of property. Though, no one in Storybrooke would really care why Emma put Regina behind bars. They’d probably buy tickets to go and throw snacks at her. Emma frowns at the thought. Regina deserves better than that. Better than all of this honestly. She should be queen, or mayor, or whatever the hell she wants to be. But first, Regina has to get the hell up.

Emma steps forward, clearing her throat as she goes. Regina’s eyes fly open at the sound. They survey the space in front of her before Regina turns her head enough to spot Emma. The corner of her lips pull upward, then back down, before settling into what has to be the closest thing to a pout Regina Mills will ever do.  _It’s kind of cute,_ Emma thinks before straightening up.  _Focus._

Emma tries to pull on her sheriff voice. She winds up sounding more tired though, like whenever she tries to talk sense into Henry. “Regina, what are you doing here?”

The brunette glances around with the slightest of shrugs. “Sitting, Miss Swan. Isn’t it obvious?”

At least the alcohol doesn’t affect her personality. Emma steps to the wall opposite Regina. It’s weird, being able to look down on the mayor. The last time Emma got to do that was after Regina saved her life, before Archie died and everything got so fucked up. Well,  _this_  fucked up.

“You can’t be here. Is this about Henry—“

Regina shakes her head. She even chuckles, bitterly, but it’s a laugh. “If it was about Henry, I would’ve come in the day. And sober,” she tacks on.

Emma knows that. Knows a lot when it comes to how Regina handles things, which is part of the reason she’s still standing and talking rather than making assumptions or kicking the other woman out. If Regina has to be drunk for whatever she wants to say, then Emma probably has to listen to it.

Still, Emma can’t help but say, “You do get how dumb it is to show up at the sheriff’s place drunk, right? Even in Storybrooke, that’s asking to get arrested.”

“I don’t have to do anything to make the town hate me. I might as well just do what I please.” Regina makes to move before grimacing. “The wine seemed like a good idea.” She tries to move again, but her arms shake a bit when she puts pressure on them.

“It wasn’t.” Emma offers out her hand. There’s enough space where it’s not like she’s forcing her help on the brunette. She’s giving the woman a chance. Regina stares at it. Emma scoffs. “I pulled you out of a burning building. I can help you up.”

Regina’s eyes turn venomous. “You accused me of murder.”

“I took it back,” Emma points out, “And if you saw it—“

“You should’ve believed me,” Regina says. She frowns once the words are out, tucks her chin into her neck for a moment. “I thought….”  _Thought what?_  Emma watches Regina struggle for the words. She’d help, but there are a lot of things that could’ve been thought. A lot of hopes Emma could’ve crushed. It’s kind of her specialty. Regina peers back up at Emma, old words abandoned for new ones. “I was wrong,” Regina concludes.

_No, I was._  Emma sinks into the wall further. She worries her badge between her fingertips. What does she say to that? It’s not like her messing up is new phenomenon, and it’s not like it’s never going to happen again, so what’s the point in talking about it?

Emma doesn’t talk things through. She didn’t use to have a sounding board, or anyone to check in with. She does what her instincts tell her to do. When her instincts fail her, she does what she thinks will get the job done. That’s what she did. She shouldn’t have to spend the rest of her life fighting to fix that one mistake, especially when Regina’s made a shit ton of other mistakes, like whipping up a love potion because things weren’t going her way. Yeah, Emma was wrong, but Regina’s wrong too.

“Aren’t you always?”

Regina’s eyes flare as her head whips up. Emma can see the moment the movement hits Regina, but the Queen powers through. She fights, fire blazing behind her eyes as she gets back onto those wobbly arms to hoist herself up. She has to put some weight onto the wall, yet Regina stands almost as tall as she does any other time Emma says something to antagonize her.

Regina spits, “I do what I have to do. I don’t need your approval.”

“Then why are you here?” Emma asks. She takes a step in, hand lifting from her badge to push her question through. “What do you  _want_?”

Regina meets Emma’s eye for a second, then she lets go of the wall. “I want to stop fighting. I’m so  _tired_  of fighting.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t—“

“Fight back?” Regina pushes at some hair out of place. “Defend myself? I only have myself. Forgive me for trying not to lose me too.”

_Shit._  Emma might be on the flight side of the fight or flight instinct, but she understands exactly where that comes from. Maybe even more so after knowing Cora. What Emma doesn’t get is what she’s supposed to do about it. She can’t stop people from hating Regina. The most she could do would be to offer some protection.

“So we make a truce. No more poisons, curses, or throwing me off your porch,” Emma says.

Regina almost grins. “I can promise the first two, but what if you deserve the last one?”

_How could I — oh._  Emma’s lips quirk up. Regina’s joking. Emma shrugs. “I’ll try not to.”

Regina accepts that. She adds, “Stop letting your parents run the town. And, if you think I do something, if I do actually do it, you let me tell Henry.”

Fair enough. “I’m surprised you didn’t add no more killing loved ones,” Emma says. She kind of means it as a joke, but Regina’s face drops at the words.

An arm rises to wrap around the mayor’s torso as she mumbles, “There’s no one left to kill.” Emma’s chest tightens. Regina raises her voice. “Except Henry, but no one is hurting him.”

“Yeah,” Emma says. No one’s crazy enough to try and hurt Henry, not when he has the governing family and the Evil Queen ready to defend him. He has a great family, and Regina’s part of that. She might be a pain in the ass, condescending, vindictive, and maybe even downright evil on some days. No matter what, she’s still one of them. She’s still human at the very least. Emma rolls her shoulders back. “And, you know what, no one’s hurting you either.”

Regina scoffs. “I’d like to see them try.”

Emma shakes her head. “I’m serious, Regina. This truce means we’re on the same side. From here on out, you need anything, I’m there.” Regina looks down. Emma knows it’s a big promise, but she means it. She just has to prove it. “Starting now.”

Regina’s eyes fly up to Emma’s. Emma lifts up her keys and dangles them in the space between them. Even intoxicated, the mayor’s quick to catch on. She shakes her head, eyes unfocusing a bit before landing firmly on Emma’s face. “I won’t go in there.”

“Seeing as you can’t be out by yourself and I’m not driving you home, you don’t really have any other choice.” Emma throws a glance to the welcome mat Regina’s standing on. “Unless you want to sleep in the hall.”

Regina huffs. “I shouldn’t have come here.” Still, she moves out of the threshold so that Emma can unlock the door.

“Don’t worry. Everyone’s asleep. No one will even have to know you’re here.”

Emma pushes open the door. Regina follows, mumbling as softly as she can, “Until morning when they crucify me.”

_Crucification’s for good guys_. Emma leads the way through the darkened apartment. She turns around to mention that Henry’s shoes are a few feet from the door, but Regina steps over them expertly. Emma turns back.

Regina moves through the apartment so easily. She does a lot pretty well, especially since she’s not wearing her heels. Emma pauses. Where are Regina’s heels?

“Um,” Emma glances at her, “what happened to your shoes?”

Regina’s grin shines even in the dark. “I tried the door before you got here.”

Emma takes a second to grasp the full extent of that. She groans. “Did you throw them? Regina—“

“Truce means never saying sorry. It’s like…” Regina wavers on her feet and glances around the room. The TV’s on, paused in the middle of one of the classic kids movies of the century. Regina finishes her sentence, “Hakuna matata.”

Emma chuckles. “Tell that to my parents when they wake up.” She goes the rest of the way up. “You’re on your own with them.”

“Emma—“

“Nope. Not getting in between. That’s  _my_  problem free philosophy.”


End file.
